


To Term

by Invictusimpala



Series: Heat Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam stares at the little stick in his hands for a long time. It took him an hour just to be able to get it out of the box, and another two to get up the urge to piss on it. And then another hour to get the courage to flip it over.<br/>Now, though . . . now it’s just shock.<br/>“Sam? Sam, I’m home, where are -- Sam, are you okay?” Dean asks as he rounds the corner, but Sam doesn’t look away from the positive pregnancy test held in his hand like the world’s most precious diamond. “Sam?” Dean says quieter, and Sam relaxes when his mate’s hand brushes against the back of his neck, the cold of his skin a nice break from the sweat constantly gathering there.<br/>“I’m pregnant,” he breathes, and it’s almost a question, a panted string of words he never thought he’d ever get to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Term

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. This includes a semi-graphic description of Sam's miscarriage, and it's very emotional, just a warning. This takes place about a year after [Prequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3195689). Thank so much for reading, enjoy :)

Sam stares at the little stick in his hands for a long time. It took him an hour just to be able to get it out of the box, and another two to get up the urge to piss on it. And then another hour to get the courage to flip it over.

Now, though . . . now it’s just shock.

“Sam? Sam, I’m home, where are -- Sam, are you okay?” Dean asks as he rounds the corner, but Sam doesn’t look away from the positive pregnancy test held in his hand like the world’s most precious diamond. “Sam?” Dean says quieter, and Sam relaxes when his mate’s hand brushes against the back of his neck, the cold of his skin a nice break from the sweat constantly gathering there.

“I’m pregnant,” he breathes, and it’s almost a question, a panted string of words he never thought he’d ever get to say. “I’m pregnant,” he says louder, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up to burst out.

“Sam, are you okay?”

Suddenly dread makes his stomach turn.

“Wait, Dean, are you okay with this? I know we were trying for a little bit, but we haven’t talked about it in a while, are you gonna leave? Are you --”

“Sammy, slow down.” Dean grabs onto his shoulders to steady him when he stands up, and he brushes his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

“I’m really happy,” Sam says, and he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face, can’t stop the tears from dripping down his cheeks. He throws his arms around Dean’s neck and sobs into his shoulder. “We’re gonna be parents,” he shouts, but it’s muffled by Dean’s shirt.

“We’re gonna be parents!” Dean yells joyously, and he spins Sam around before bringing him in for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue.

Sam’s left panting, and he nips at Dean’s jaw.

“I think we need to celebrate, Alpha,” Sam says lowly, and his Alpha growls.

Before being thrown on the bed and knotted, Sam sets the pregnancy test to the side so he can show it off to Dean and their friends later.

As his pregnancy goes on, Dean is wonderful. Usually, he is just about the worst under pressure or stress, but this is different. He touches Sam carefully, with gentle caresses, and when Sam’s in need of a knot he does it carefully, slowly, even though Sam’s begging for it.

In the second week his heat stops, and he cries out of pure happiness. His skin stays cool, and his slick dries up, which is in and of itself a miracle. He seems to be crying a lot more often as his hormones change, but he's not going to complain one little bit if it means his heat stops for nine months.

Dean buys book after book on pregnancy in Omega males, and it seems like their apartment gets smaller and smaller the more baby things Dean brings home.

Sam has to tell him to stop bringing home a new toy every day or they’d have to get a house, and he’s not ready for that.

But, as always, things go wrong just as they’re getting perfect, just as everything is falling into place.

“Are you losing weight, Sammy?” Dean asks when Sam’s pants won’t stay on his hips while he's cooking.

“No, I’m not,” he says resolutely, and pulls the drawstring tighter on his sweats. “I’m gaining weight like crazy, isn’t that the point?” He teases, and Dean’s expression softens.

“Definitely. You’re such a strong Omega, Sammy.”

Another week goes by, and tomorrow is Sam’s first appointment, but he’s considering moving it up to this afternoon.

“Sam, this isn’t normal,” Dean says worriedly when Sam doubles over for what seems like the millionth time that day. Pain makes his belly feel like it’s stretched thin, and when Dean tries to touch him there just over the swell of the baby bump, Sam growls and nips at him. His Alpha holds his hands up in surrender. “Go lay down, I’ll bring ice packs in.”

Sam waddles to the bedroom, and into the bathroom. Pulling down his pants hurts -- everything hurts -- and it gets harder and harder to breathe when those cramps start up.

“No, no no no no no!” He shouts when he feels a rush of slick ooze out of him, but it’s thicker than normal, with some blood mixed in. “Dean! Dean!” Sam cries brokenly, and he desperately tries to wipe the slick away from his skin, but there’s so much of it. Too much.

His Alpha was right.

He should have gone into the doctor.

“Sammy? Shit, Sam, hang on, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Heat makes his skin burn familiarly, and he realizes how much he didn’t miss it. How much he remembers hating the heat.

Choked out sobs make his body shake, and he slithers onto the floor into a pile as he cries and cries.

Only when he calms down does he find out he’s been pulled into his Alpha’s arms.

“Dean, oh my god, Dean. H-help me, please,” he hiccups.

“I called nine-one-one, we just have to wait.”

“A-alpha, please.”

Sam doesn’t know what he’s begging for.

He supposes for his Alpha to fix this like he has everything else.

A cold pain settles in his chest, and shock makes his limbs feel numb. He stops crying, and he stops feeling for a long time. He doesn’t flinch or move when the EMTs come to lift him into the truck, and he doesn’t flush in embarrassment at the fact that he’s not wearing anything.

He just curls in on himself and tries not to focus too hard on the pain that’s steadily flooding through his system like a poison dripping into him, slow and torturous.

Sam wakes the next day to a nurse by his side, and Dean on the other, holding his hand so tight, but it doesn’t hurt.

“What’s goin’ on?” He slurs, and the nurse starts taking his blood pressure and his temperature.

“Sam Winchester?” She asks when the nurse grabs the clipboard, and he nods his head. “Sam, the doctor will be right in to see you and check you over to make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What happened?” He asks, and looks over at Dean who’s face is contorted in sympathetic pain.

“Sammy, they think you might lose the baby,” Dean says quietly, and Sam sits bolt upright.

“What? No! Then do something! Can’t you do something? Please, please, I’ll do anything,” he begs the nurse, and tears spring up to her eyes. She wipes at them and ducks out of the room. “Dean, please, pay them, I don’t care, _we have to keep this baby_ ,” he says, and tears well up to pour down his cheeks as he clings to his Alpha.

“Sammy, calm down and sit back, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Dean pushes at his shoulders until he lays back down. “I don’t know what they can do or what the options are, we were waiting for you to wake up to discuss it.”

The doctor comes in then, and Sam jumps on the chance to talk.

“Please tell me all the options. We can do anything, pay for anything, I just need to keep this baby.”

“Sam, right?” The doctor asks as he reads over Sam’s file. “Sam, there aren’t many options because of your chronic heat.”

“What are they?”

Sam holds his hand over his stomach protectively all the while the doctor rattles off a list of surgeries and hormone transplants, none of which sound like any sort of good.

“You can transition --”

“No, I . . . I can’t do that,” Sam says, and the doctor nods.

“There really isn’t another safe option. With your chronic heat, which is still unexplored and unknown, there isn’t much that we can do.”

“There has to be something, please.”

“Like I said, chronic heat is still unexplored, we don’t know what works and what doesn’t. We could be doing more harm than good. It says here that you’re extremely allergic to heat suppressants, but because of the hormones changing in your body we could try them.”

“Can I talk it over with my mate?” He asks, and the doctor smiles.

“Of course, I’ll be back in a minute with some medicine options we can talk more about.”

The doctor steps out of the room, and Dean sighs.

“You’re not taking heat suppressants.”

“What? Why not?” Sam asks, and Dean holds him close.

“Sam, you didn’t see yourself when you were on them. You were . . . I thought you were going to die, Sam, and I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t lose this baby,” Sam says, and shifts out of Dean’s grip.

“You could die, Sam,” Dean says bluntly, and he looks like he’s about to break down.

“So?”

“Sam,” Dean breathes, and that’s when the doctor walks in.

“So, have you come to a decision?”

“He’s not --”

“I’ll take them,” Sam says confidently, and pointedly doesn’t look at Dean.

“Good, good. I’ll calling in a prescription for those, and you should be on them for about a month, two pills a day, once in the morning, and once at night. If you do have a reaction come to the ER immediately.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, it’s what I’m here for.”

The doctor types at the computer, and Sam watches him type ‘heat suppressants’.

He pretends not to feel Dean seething silently next to him.

“Alright, you should be discharge tomorrow, we’re going to try the first two doses here to make sure you won’t have a reaction, but after that you should be able to go home if things go well."

The doctor leaves after some instructions, and Dean leaves with the slam of the door to get ‘food’, following him out.

Sam’s left to his own thoughts, and he pets his hands over his belly.

“It’s okay, we’ll get this all sorted out, little one,” he whispers, and looks up to make sure he’s really alone before continuing. “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to see you,” Sam says, and rubs his thumb over his clothed stomach.

His and Dean’s baby is going to be beautiful. Sam can see the baby in his mind. She’s small in his arms when he closes his eyes, with her big blue eyes that will turn green as time goes on, and the freckles that will spring up to cover her cheeks as she grows. Her hair will be long like his, and he yearns to run his fingers through it, to touch her, but he settles on rubbing over the slight swell of his stomach through the green and white of the itchy hotel gown that catches on his skin.

Dean comes in then and break him out of his happy reverie, but his mate doesn’t look mad.

“Sam, I’ll support you in this, I promise, I just don’t want you o-or the baby getting hurt.”

“Dean, I trust the hospital, and if things go wrong it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” Sam says to his stomach, and Dean walks over to sit on the bed with him.

“I’m in love with you, Sammy, I want you to know that. And I love our baby, I do. I don’t want you to be upset with me, we don’t need that right now.”

“I’m not mad . . . I’m just emotional, and I need this, Dean. I need pups, and I want them so bad. If I could have a baby . . . Dean, we’d be parents. My heat wouldn’t matter anymore, we’d have a kid.”

“Sammy, if it doesn’t work out I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Why would I leave you? You’re my mate.”

“I mean . . . I don’t want you to stop talking to me. To anyone. I want to help you if that happens, and I don’t want you to . . . cave in on yourself. Let me in, and let me take care of you. Everything in me wants to protect you and our pup and it's driving me crazy."

“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” Sam says and nuzzles Dean back. “We’re in this together, Alpha.”

Sam’s given the first dose that night, and he does well the first few hours.

Dean keeps him up the whole night with his pacing, but he catches a few hours of sleep here and there. His temperature stays down in the nineties, and Sam couldn’t be more grateful to the doctor for giving him heat suppressants.

But the next day is horrible. It’s like the first time all over again, with the vomiting and the cramps. He loses consciousness halfway through the day, and wakes in a pool of his own sweat, his body writhing, limbs twisting under the blanket.

“No, make the heat go away,” he whines, and the doctor above him helps him to lay back down.

“We’re trying, Sam, but if your temperature doesn’t lower, there’s a high chance you’re going to lose the baby.”

“Please, please do something.”

Dean’s hands soothe his skin, and the slick tapers off some, and breathing becomes easier.

“Sam,” the doctor says, “I’m going to need you to calm down, you’re raising your temperature up and we can’t get it down if you won’t let us.”

Everyone in the room panics when Sam’s temperature rises above one hundred, and he grips onto Dean’s hand as he hyperventilates.

“Sam, Sammy, Omega, calm down, it’s going to be okay if you can calm down some, okay? Breathe with me, breathe with me.”

Dean breathes in deep, holds it for a moment, and then lets it all out in a big gush. Sam does the same and immediately feels better. Dean lets Sam scent him by having him bury his head in the crook of his neck, and Sam practices breathing in deep and letting it out against where his Alpha’s scent is strongest.

The loud beeping of the heart machine slows as he calms, and he feels the tension in the room seep out as it leaves his body.

“That’s it," his mate praises.

Sam slumps into Dean’s arms, and his mate helps to lay him back down. Exhaustion makes his head spin, and the heat comes back worse than before.

“Your temperature is still well above one hundred, so we’re going to come back with ice to put in your hot spots, and something for you to drink.”

The doctor and the nurse both leave, and another nurse takes their place, checking Sam over and over until they return with arms full of supplies.

The ice packs are shoved under his armpits and between his spread legs, and behind his head, the rest of them in his hands and on his feet.

Sam shivers harder the longer they’re on his body, but his temperature has dropped two degrees, so he keeps them on and suffers through the cold.

Every hour they switch the packs with new ones, and each time the degrees on the monitor he’s watching closely drop by half a point each time.

“Doin’ so well, Sammy.”

“I’m still havin’ cramps.”

“How bad? Do you want me to get a nurse?” Sam shakes his head.

“Just want you closer.”

Sam falls asleep like that, in Dean’s arms, and when he wakes up that’s where he is, too, except this time his Alpha is crying, sobbing so hard Sam is shaking.

Sam clings to him, and tries to grasp what happened from the looks on the faces of the nurse and doctor standing in front of him, and it’s pretty obvious what happened.

Even though he knows it’s nothing physical, he can feel the emptiness inside of him, a loss of a connection he didn’t know he had.

When he rubs over the skin of his belly it doesn’t feel stretched, and a sudden loneliness makes his heart pound in his ears.

“Dean?” He croaks, and his mate makes a choked off sound.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says, his voice thick and husky.

“What happened?”

“Sam,” the doctor interrupts, and it’s a woman this time, her badge says her name last name starts with a J, but tears start to come faster and faster, and he has to blink rapidly so he can see. “Sam, you had a complete miscarriage.”

Her mouth moves but he can’t hear her. He doesn't want to listen to anything else. His eyes widen and he stops breathing.

When Dean shakes his shoulders he just sort of looks up. His body is tired, and so is his mind, and he realizes how little he has slept in the past three days on the roller coaster towards this inevitable moment.

“How are you feeling?” Someone asks carefully, and that’s when he breaks down. Sam pitches himself into Dean’s arms and cries until there’s nothing left in him. Dean climbs into bed with him so Sam can sit in his lap and shudder through his emotions.

Dean keeps him there until he’s discharged. He changes into his clothes, and the nurse helps to pull the IV from his arm, and the pain helps to distract him from the ache in his chest.

When they go back home, Sam shuffles to their room and closes the door behind himself. All the . . . baby stuff is in the living room, and he can’t even look at Dean right now.

“Sammy, don’t lock me out, please. I need to take care of you,” Dean says through the door, and Sam sniffles.

“I just . . . need some time alone.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Dean says worriedly, and Sam hears his hands hit the door.

“I’m just going to sleep for a little bit, okay? I’ll -- I’ll come out when I’m ready.”

Sam doesn’t sleep, but he does toss and turn. Each time he dozes off, a phantom pain wakes him, so he props himself up against the headboard and tries to ignore the slick coating his thighs, but eventually a wave of heat makes it too much, and he goes to find Dean.

His mate is on the couch when he walks out, asleep on the cushions, and everything is at it used to be. Their couch is back in place of the bassinet, and all the toys Dean bought are out of sight.

Sam curls up on Dean’s chest, replacing the pillow he'd been hugging, and Dean kisses the top of his head with a content sigh.

“It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay.”

“I don’t feel okay.”

“We’ll work through this together, alright? All of it. I’ll be with you the whole time, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’m here to take care of you, that’s what mates do.”

“I just want you to hold me,” Sam breathes eventually, and he settles into the cloud of Dean’s comforting smell, the smell of his brother -- of his mate.

“I can do that all day, okay? And later we can get whatever you want to eat.”

“Just want to sleep.”

“Okay, Sammy. Okay. We can do that. Whatever you want.”

“Hey, Dean?” Sam asks after a long pause, and Dean hums. “I love you, Alpha.”

“And I love you, my Omega. Always have. Always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


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